Hosed Down

One of the presenters at an event I attended the other day was a dynamo chick in her 20’s, 23 to be exact.

Slick brown hair, pencil skirt, big doe eyes, perfect legs.

Nothing that came out of her mouth was interesting to me. And every time she nodded wisely when the other panel members spoke, I got quite annoyed about it.

It crossed my mind that maybe I was a little bit jealous. Pffft. Yeah. No. Really? Not consciously, but the explanation fit.

I really hope that I wasn’t, because that would be slightly superficial of me. I hope that the apparent vacuousness was real despite all her listed accolades. She seemed rehearsed and opinionated but in that way groomed by mummy and daddy at the dinner table, without any of her own depth of character, yet.

The icing in the cake was when the old guy next to me nudged me and said; she’s amazing isn’t she?! I had to stop my eyes from rolling all over the place. Oh yeah I said enthusiastically.

At about the same time one of the other panel members made a joke about the hosts socks. Something about him winning as the most eccentric. Everyone laughed and checked out their feet. Of course the chick just looked demure and said: oh I’m not wearing socks! She tickled. Everyone looked at her legs.

Fuck offffffffff.

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